


Phantom Interloper

by batboybot



Series: Inebriety for Actuality [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Background Sonia Nevermind, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Ish?? - Freeform, Komahina - Freeform, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medical Torture, Medical Trauma, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Other, Past Character Death, Post-Neo World Program (Dangan Ronpa), Post-Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Psychological Trauma, Repressed Memories, Soda Kazuichi Being Dumb, Two Stubborn Idiots, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, hahaha this is gonna be messy, ibuki being a great friend, like... really fucking messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batboybot/pseuds/batboybot
Summary: Hajime has had enough, stuck within one place ever since they all left the simulation - yet he can't seem to get himself out, seemingly stuck on a continuous loop unwillingly. Watching on the outside, merely a spectator despite having the reigns over his own body.Hajime's POV
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Series: Inebriety for Actuality [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052633
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Phantom Interloper

**Author's Note:**

> Finally writing something in Hajime's perspective!!!! 
> 
> To be honest, this is mostly off a vague idea so it is definitely going to be scattered so I'm sorry in advance. I have no knowledge on medical stuff so I'm basing this on online research and flat out winging it cause I am dumb, so if there's anything that sounds wrong or a bit inaccurate please let me know!!!! 
> 
> This is going to probably be the darkest work I've done (at this current time), I'm getting into some pretty heavy themes here which includes toxic coping mechanisms and mental health issues so PLEASE be careful - this will be triggering. Even though most of the stuff isn't primarily on Hajime, it will be shown in the other characters cause we all know they are definitely mentally ill after going through shit like that. I've tried tagging as much as possible on the contents of the work, so hopefully that'll give you guys a heads up. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this! :)

What the _fuck_ was he doing to himself?

Dull green eyes stared back at him, eyes that used to be so familiar now felt foreign, as if they belonged to someone else entirely. Looking close enough, specks of dark maroon wrapped around an empty pupil, stomach churning at the permanent reminder of what he did to himself. How stupid, how naive. The power to step back in time was newly present, sickness and regret pinned to his slouched shoulders. Wincing, a sharp thin pain ran across the top of his skull, the frown deepening at the sensation that wasn't even real; he could never get used to those, no matter how much he tried. Again, he has no position to complain, it was his fault. _You chose this. Why are you complaining? This is all your fault after all-_ **Shut up!**

"-ou in there?" Fingers snapped inches away from his face, Hajime jumping at the sight.

"Wh- Huh?" 

"You've been out of it for a solid ten minutes." A familiar vision of Soda greeted him, his expression failed to hide the worry. "Well, if I was to be completely honest, you've been out of it for a few days now dude." 

Blinking, Hajime glanced around, hiding the panic at the countless vehicles surrounding them, the cracked concrete under his feet hurt as chunks of debris dug into soles of aged converse, the hint of oil and burnt fabric hitting his nostrils. When did he get here? He was just in his bathroom, he was absolutely sure of that fact. Is it an effect of the program? Did it cause such side effects such as short-term memory, temporary amnesia? 

"Oi! You're spacing out again!" Soda shouted, punching his arm.

"Ow! You didn't need to do that!" Hajime hissed, rubbing his aching bicep. 

"What did you expect me to do?! Sing you a lullaby?!" 

"What kind of- you know what? Never mind." Hajime sighed, rolling his shoulder to shake off the throbbing pain. "There's nothing to worry about, trust me."

"You sure about that? I mean," Soda brushed some stained hair out of his face, a deep frown settling, "You were pretty hysterical a while ago after Naegi and his gang appeared." 

Ah. Yes. He remembered how he lost his temper over Kirigiri's orders to halt prescriptions concerning valium and tramadol, not noticing at the time that he was becoming too dependent on such pain relievers. Even if she was in the right, it didn't stop him from _loudly_ accusing her of negligence and ignorance to him and the entire group - he just wanted the pain to stop. It's too much, even if they weren't physical. 

"That's over and done with, I was being too dramatic. She was only looking out for us, mainly me..." 

Soda hummed, sitting up slightly from the trolley creeper- wait he was crouching not standing, no wonder why his thighs burned- and wiping away access fluid from his forehead. It was a bit unnerving seeing Soda so serious, but then again he did seem to mature somewhat after they came to. Hair now down to his waist, wrinkles around his mouth and eyebrows, eyes more narrow than ever and no sight of a beanie; Soda seemed to have grown up the fastest among everyone. More on the physical side really, regardless he looked different from his teenage avatar but still had his unrestrained personality. Infatuation for Sonia still as obvious as it ever was. 

"It doesn't mean you're okay, right? I guess everyone changed." Soda commented, looking up at the clear blue sky, looking too close to what they endured months prior. 

"What do you mean by that?" Hajime asked, not ready to hear a speech from someone like him.

"It's kind of obvious, it was traumatic... No one would leave that with a healthy mind, it was so real that- we felt everything!" Exclaiming, Soda raised his hands to somehow complete his point without using a proper sentence. 

"Well, I already knew that-"

"No." The tone startled him internally, the dark eyes so cold and stern, it didn't look like Soda anymore. "I mean- Everyone is so... Distant, _you_ are distant, I'm just as guilty. I'm not even going to talk about Nagito- God knows what he's thinking, but... We're in so deep... We're going on as if we're top notch but we're just- well, fucked!" 

"Soda, are you-"

"-Of course I'm not okay! Didn't you see Mahiru yesterday?"

Who didn't see Mahiru yesterday? Wearing bright red bruises on her that matched her damaged locks, she seemed too happy for comfort as if she was gifted an expensive necklace, everyone was silently concerned but didn't dare ask without a second clue to judge. It was only when Hiyoko walked in that everyone sank into some void of blissful forgetfulness, not wanting to voice the conclusion that was very much true, a more mature taller form that battled memories of a small bratty girl was also sporting similar bruises on her collar bones. No loving smiles, no close contact, not even subtle glances to one another. They avoided each other like a horrendous disease, as if looking at each other would cause an instant violent reaction and bodily harm. Mahiru's happy exterior melted as soon as the other stepped into the dining hall. Sonia becoming the embodiment of humanity by shifting towards the red headed woman, a gentle reassuring hand on the shoulder and guiding her outside. It was sickening. 

"Do you get it now?" Soda's voice indicated that he spotted Hajime's silent answer. "None of us are okay. How could we be okay? It's pure insanity."

"Maybe the Future Foundation should start investing in a therapy clinic." Hajime half joked, heavily disliking his own suggestion. His eyes picked up a bright object, a metal water flask settled near Soda's side, his throat finally making itself clear on how dehydrated he was. Reaching over, his fingers barely brushed against cold metal before a blackened hand ruthlessly snatched it from sight, two dark eyes caused a shiver to stab into his spinal cord. 

"Don't touch that. _Ever._ " 

It hit him like a tidal wave, scents of oil got demolished by the stench of alcohol, burning his throat further as he took in the bloodshot eyes before him. A flicker of regret was what he saw last before Hajime shot up from his position, spinning around and making his way out of the military base. Soda was definitely right. Everyone here had major problems, including Hajime himself. His legs hurt, his feet was similar to stepping on shards of glass, but he unconsciously continued walking until he found himself before Jabberwock Park. His eyes picking up the vibrantly colored figure sitting on top of the algae-covered statue. It seemed like she spotted him too, waving wildly. 

"Ha-Gee-May!" Ibuki's cheerful tone brought a small smile to his face, waving back to her and approached the statue. 

"What are doing up there?" He asked, watching as she swung her legs back and forth, her heels leaving marks on old stone. 

"Why wouldn't I be here? The view is fan-fucking-tastic!" She winked, a fairy-like laugh came afterwards. Hajime always wondered how she could be so confidently happy, his eyes crinkling at her despite his lips being set firm. 

"Wouldn't the beaches be better? Or did you get tired of them?" 

"Who can get tired of beaches?! Not me, no _wayyy_ ho-say! Got to be quite a blue person to find beaches boring, blue-er than a blueberry!" She bellowed, her grin faltering slightly. "Wish they didn't turn so blue in the first place."

"Hm, I guess you have a point there..." Hajime hummed, leaning against the statue and ignored the uncomfortable wetness. 

"Why are you so blue Hajime?" 

"I beg your pardon?" He turned his head up, barely seeing her narrowed eyes.

"You're not just as blue as a blueberry, you're as blue as a ghost! One that sings with sorrow in some abandoned club bathroom-"

"No, not the literal sense," Hajime scratched his cheek as his anxiety began building up, "Why do you suggest something like that?"

Ibuki hums, her hair equally bright to her game self, though she abandoned her shredded stockings and school uniform in favor of black fishnets and a red plaid skirt that was already torn (somehow). The white tank top was also poorly torn but to resemble a crop top, and a black leather jacket which she lovingly covered areas in with random explosions of colors. It worked, it was Ibuki, she could smash a can of paint onto a pair of white trousers and the pants would suit her just as well. 

"Did you forget about what I told you? About how you'll always be you no matter what?" She piped up, her head tilted to the side, looking down at Hajime.

"I suppose I do." 

"You've changed, but thats a-okay! Everyone changes, you can never be you all the time! You might not even be a small little ghost anymore in a month or two!" She finally hops down from the statue, heavily landing onto her feet and making her hair more messy. "You're probably going through something temporary anyways, like a bad tv show about teen romance which stops on a mid season episode!" 

"Uhm... Thank you? I guess?" Hajime smiled at the weirdly worded advice, but hanging out with the woman so much pretty much helped with building an internal translator solely for her. 

"No problemo! Ibuki has a role, a duty, a bloodless blood oath to help a friend like Hajime through bumpy rumpy times!" She cheered, dragging him into a tight hug before laughing and skipping away, the encounter improving his mood just a smidge.

She's so eccentric and hyper in the best way possible. Her words did leave him stuck, questioning his own sanity and the recent weeks in which he kept finding himself in random places with no recollection of how and why he got there. Maybe this was Kamakura's doing? God, it was starting to piss him off. Hajime would ask but the other had disappeared ever since he woke up, no words or actions managed to bring him forward to offer an insult. He wished he wasn't concerned, this was the entity that created this mess in the first place, the man that sent them to their deaths within the program. Throat aching, the sensation of bile rose to irritate such burning even further, deciding to not risk anything by leaving the park and towards the cottages. Tired, so tired, why was he tired all the sudden? 

_Gagging, plastic remained within his throat, permanent and scarring. Tasting like acid and sterilizing alcohol, his exhausted state was what held back the vomit. Still no clue to why it was there, did it matter? It will stay until he was complete. He was tired, so utterly tired yet the bright lights above him refused to give him rest alongside the blinding pain that echoed through his shell. A gloved hand entered his vision, waving a light back and forth, his eyes watering at the added hurt. No signs of sympathy when tears fell from bloodshot sockets, soothing the molten skin._

_"Pupils are dilating perfectly without drops, no sign of mydriasis... Should we administer-"_

_"No. There's no need." Shivers wrecked a weakened shell, a breath replacing a whimper. "We can't hinder the subject with meaningless drugs, not when we're so close."_

_"... Yes sir. What procedure should we focus on tonight?"_

_Heavy shoes clicked against the cold tiles, a massive shadow blocked the lights and caused so much more agony. Shadows took him in, monotone and dismissive underlined with evil hunger. Another breath, this time a sob._

_"Make sure those lungs of his don't elicit a pathetic cry over nothing."_

_"Yes sir, I'll make sure our subject is of perfect physic."_

_Clicking heels entered, more sobs arose at the sinister reminder of what was to come. Please not her, not again, anything but her. A feminine hand went over his face, pressing down onto his forehead as if it wasn't soaked in sweat._

_"Okay sweetheart, we're going to get started. We need you to be conscious throughout this procedure, okay?"_

_Choking around plastic, his answer didn't matter as the nurse immediately grabbed onto his hair, yanking him backwards onto the bed and restraining him with leather. Perfume invaded his senses, leather already cutting into his tender skin as the nurse smiled down, her smile empty and merely a mockery of who he was raised by. He hated her, he hated her so much, he wanted to watch the soft brown locks be stained with blood and bodily matter._

_"Whenever you're ready, doctor."_

_A moment a silence before a click of a button put everything into action, static and the touch of a sharp object entered his veins; it used to hurt._

_"Today we'll be working on preventing the likelihood of pulmonary hemorrhage. Already have worked on common defects of the human body, we're taking cautious measures to that of those rarities. The patient has already been diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome, exhibiting no reactions to IV's and more in-depth methods of heart monitoring. However, we need to take caution to make sure he has the best physical performance, endurance and pain thresholds can be a major killer to humans. So, within this procedure, we'll be abstaining from using any anesthetic for the duration of the operation."_

_He didn't have the time to resist, the scalpel already slipping through his skin, a pained cry was muffled around the tube as more tears fell. The manicured hands held him down, being paranoid that the leather wasn't enough to hold back._

_"In order to carry out maximum performance, I will not perform a thoracotomy, we need to get to every possible angle of the organs."_

_Fire, it felt just like fire. Gagging again, he felt the stench of vomit greet him as it hit the back of his tongue, the nurse grabbing onto the plastic tube and extending the circumference, completely restricting his throat. "We don't need to make a mess, honey." Giggling, as if it was comedic, seeing a patient try to resist the resumed torture. Daring a look, he glanced down at himself and immediately screamed, a suffocating noise as he saw bones and so much blood stain his lower torso._

"-me? Hajime?!" 

Crying out, his fists swung wildly, feeling it collide against something strong and edged. Hands encased his wrists, skinny fingers surprisingly restrained him well as he continued thrashing around blindly. 

"Hajime stop! It's me!" 

Shivering, he looked up with paranoia, seeing a blurry picture of white and darkness. 

"Just- Just breathe. It's just me- you know me, right?" He sounded familiar, too familiar. 

Trying to shake away the hands, he backed into something cold, whimpering at the connections to the coldness of the shadow. 

"-at me. Look at me!" A hand grabbed his face, forcing him to look up and make eye contact with grey. He can't breathe, it hurt too much. Who was he? Why was he here?

"S-Stop!" 

"Hajime, look at me. Who am I?" The hand remained, loosened slightly to merely grasp his jaw. "Who are you?"

Shuddering, Hajime felt his body slacken, giving up on even trying to fight. It definitely didn't work in the room, it never worked. "I- I don't..." 

"Answer me. Who are you?" His voice was soft, just like the hand holding his jaw. Cold, not as cold as the leather and sterile sheets.

"I- I'm Hajime... Hinata." 

"Good. Where are you?" The other hand moved up, gently holding onto his bicep. "Where do you live?"

"I can't, I don't- why are you asking me this-"

"Hajime. Calm down, please. Just breathe. Breathe for me." 

Following, he sucked in air shakily, thirsty for a break of pain and confinement. He didn't even realize he was crying until the soft hand carefully brushed the tears away, it didn't hurt like hers. It wasn't perverted or sinful, it was warm and comforting despite the cool touch. 

"There we go, good job. Keep doing that, Hajime." 

Looking up once more, his vision miraculously cleared as grey eyes stared back. Freezing, he felt his insides shrink in fear until he noticed the glitter of metal, attached in place of a normal hand that now rubbed his arm soothingly. 

"Nagito?"

"Yeah, that's right. You remember now?" His voice was so desirable, coiling around his brain and sending shivers down his spine that didn't ache. 

"Y-Yeah... What happened?" 

"You had a nightmare. Punched a desk, now sitting against the bathroom door. Probably a memory again..." A faint frown was present, the worry was concealed well. 

"A memory... I guess so..." Hajime mumbled, looking down at his hands with one already becoming purple along bony knuckles. 

"This is the fourth one in a row, it's nothing to snort at." Nagito let go of his face, biting back the inner yearning for the hand to remain there. "I'm really worried... This is the first time you reacted rather violently upon awakening..." 

"It's just one time out of four, it won't happen again." He dismissed, wincing as he clenched his fists.

"And risk harming yourself even further? What is wrong with you?" Nagito asked, his worry now present.

"Why don't you tell me if it's bothering you that much?!" Hajime argued, anger ready to boil over the line.

"This is not about me! You're the one being dismissive, you're going to get yourself killed!" 

"What if I want that?! Huh?! Wouldn't that be a benefit to everyone including the Foundation?!" 

"Hajime!" Nagito raised his voice, scratchy and terrified. "Don't say such things as if no one here cares about you!" 

"And how can you be so sure of that? Do you realize-"

"I care about you!" The shout startled him, the sight of Nagito so angry and heartbroken left him immobilized. 

"...What?"

"You deaf now, too?" Nagito sneered, his voice shaky as he looked away. "You're everyone's hope, you've been doing the hard work and you think everyone would easily move on? You're weak and pathetic for thinking that." 

Hajime glared into the side of the other's face, quickly melting as he saw the quiver in pale lips. Selfish, he felt so selfish and horrible for saying such things, swallowing down a a self-deprecating comment as he moved closer to the male. Raising a bruised hand, he grabbed Nagito's arm and turned him around. 

"I'm sorry." 

"... It's okay." 

"No, it's not okay." 

Deafening silence washed over them, staring at each other to try gauging some sort of hidden thought to prove who was in the wrong. Bloodshot eyes stared into watery grey ones, it felt suffocating in a melancholic hold around his throat as he wrapped his arms around Nagito and hid his face within the pale neck.

"I-I'm sorry." 

Sobs poured over the edge as arms wrapped around his shell, the same soft hand rose to tangle within knotted hair. 

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i wrote half of this drunk... whoops


End file.
